Riddle Me This
by He will knock four times
Summary: In which John's finally had enough and Sherlock is baffled by simple solutions. Just a humorous oneshot where John gets the better of Sherlock.


Sherlock, for all his flaws, was brilliant.

Sherlock knew it. (unfortunately)

John knew it.

And just about everyone they met knew it. He'd see ash on someone's trouser leg, determine what kind and then move from there in a series of brilliant (to anyone else) line of logical reason that was quite simple (only to Sherlock). There was a problem of sorts with this however.

Sherlocks mind was incredibly linear.

A leads to B which means C and D which means E, F, and G. The average person gets A and B and makes M somehow which is often wrong. And though Sherlocks ability is great, the linear functions of his mind have some gaps that lead him to misunderstand or fail to understand the answer to something. He sometimes takes things too literally, or completely misses a key social cue occurring around him.

John knows he shouldn't enjoy these moments. It's rather a bit not good to take pleasure in the failings of a friend but he feels just a little justified. He lives with the man after all and Sherlock knows just about every secret John has. He is living with a human lie detector who regularly searches through John's laptop and things. Often Sherlock calls John stupid or simple, and John knows how to knock the man down a peg or two so that Sherlocks head can continue fitting through narrow doorways.

After one spectacularly trying day at the office, filled with frantic mothers convinced their children were made of porcelain, hypochondriacs, and a teen trying to scam a prescription off John, coming home to Sherlock being as verbally cutting as a table saw was the last straw really.

"Don't be stupid John! The head in the fridge needs to stay for research purposes as I need to test it against-"

John was past caring about manners or counting to ten at this point.

"I don't care what it's for, Sherlock but you can't just take all of our food out to rot on the counter simply because you want to play Marie Antoinette in our fridge!"

"I highly doubt any scientific experiments regarding the deconstruction of cells in regards to hydrochloric acid took place on the Madame de pompadour, John. Does your idiocy know know bounds today?"

John, for a moment, actually saw red and lacked the words to reply with for a few more. He couldn't take anymore right now and decides to lash out the only way he knows that will get Sherlock. He knows Sherlock and the man can't not know something. He may choose to delete it later but he, at one point, did in fact know it. And this is something John knows he can't figure out because he is so linear and literal.

"Sherlock?" John asks calmly.

Sherlock pauses for a moment and starts taking in Johns stance and sudden change in tone. He blinks and looks a little wary, suddenly hesitant. "Yes, John?"

"Answer this question correctly without googling for the answer and for the next month I won't say a singe thing about your experiments. Body parts in the fridge and all."

And Sherlock looks intrigued and eager. And smug. There is definitely more smug than there ought to be because Sherlock is convinced he will win already. John feels a flash of vindictiveness because he knows this will drive Sherlock around the bend.

"Certainly John. And if I **loose**?" Johns eyes narrow at the way Sherlock said loose, as if it wasn't possible. He would not punch the man. He felt terrible after the Adler case and that had been when Sherlock asked for it. He pushed away anger and thought about his requests.

Body parts in the fridge were a normal part of life in 221B Baker Street and John normally really didn't mind as long as Sherlock followed the rules that they had negotiated. Certain mugs and bowls were only to ever be used for experiments and body parts, and John was duly warned when there was a poison on a dish as part of an experiment.

John knew he couldn't expect Sherlock to stop and he didn't want his flat mate to change. The experiments kept Sherlock distracted always. If his friend was busy and happy then John didn't need to worry about seven percent solutions and shady deals in alleyways. No, he simply couldn't restrict Sherlocks hobbies.

The doctor in John absently noted the rings around Sherlocks eyes and the more pronounced cheekbones. A lack of food and sleep then. Sherlocks tantrum then was a result of not caring for himself. That was it then. That was how he'd solve a problem, release a concern and get his own back in one fell swoop.

"If you loose then for the next thirty days you eat at least two nutritionally balanced meals a day, and sleep at least 6 hours every other night. I'd prefer every night but it's you I'm talking to so I'll settle for every other."

As expected Sherlock looked the height of disgusted and somehow bored at the same time. He flopped himself down on the couch, robe and all.

" _Dull_ , John, but yes, I agree. Go on, ask your question."

Still keeping his voice calm, John did.

"In American money, what two coins add up to thirty cents, and one of them is not a nickel?"

Sherlocks eyes went blank in that off-to-the-mind-palace way and he frowned, clearly drawing a blank. His forehead wrinkled as he thought harder and searched though the mountains of data he had stored away. John knows he should feel bad for taking pleasure in this but really, he's been pushed too far today to feel much guilt. Sherlock was literal. He'd never look for the most simple solution and riddles were something John had always suspected Sherlock wouldn't do very well with.

He, John, had no idea what thought process was going on in that palace but he suspected Sherlock was currently shifting through all information on American currency and doing calculations to try and get the answer. Evidently it wasn't going well.

Sherlock shot up off the couch and started pacing restlessly as the impossibility of the question and its answer started to reach him. John even saw him scrub at his hair a bit as he did when there was a level seven or higher case. It was very gratifying. Sherlock turned to John, petulant and frustrated.

"Do you give up?" John asked, trying not to smile or laugh at Sherlocks answering look of disgust.

"No. No, John I can answer this. This is simple." Shoulders back and haughty as ever. Sherlock had a peacocks pride and would interrupt God having the last word. John suppressed a smile at Sherlocks next attempt at getting the answer. "Do historical coins count?"

"No."

Really, John is starting to feel a little guilty because he can see how frustrating this is for Sherlock and him asking about historical American coinage underlines the gap in thought occurring here. It was a demonstration about how often Sherlock can't think at lower levels like the rest of 'the mere mortals'.

Regardless of how guilty he is starting to feel, part of him is still feeling a little mean spirited and he turns towards the kitchen to start making two sandwiches. Sherlock looks annoyed at Johns preemptive behavior and seems to be working on it double time. John just rolled his eyes and kept working. Really, it was just food and sleep. Not Poison and torture. Sherlock should be grateful because he could have made his end humiliating. He'd certainly had the motivation at the time.

He added an apple to each plate and two biscuits. Sherlock needed to get his weight up. He looked at Sherlock who now appeared to be looking to his nicotine patches to aid him in the solution. He'd met some American soldiers in Afghanistan and one had explained American money to him before telling this riddle to John. He'd been frustrated but eventually cued into the answer by repeating the question a few times.

John knew Sherlock wouldn't get this. His friend knew many things but most literature and simple-not-complex logic were not one of them. Now as he watched sherlock looking for cigarettes he is amazed at the result of this. Sherlock really couldn't figure it out and it was driving his friend crazy.

"John! This is maddening! The american currency system can't have anything but a nickel and a quarter equal thirty cents unless historical coins are involved but you said there aren't so I don't- I can't-"

Sherlock, proud as ever, couldn't admit defeat. So John just went over and offered him the sandwich. Mulish and irritable looking he eyed it like it was Mycrofts baby photos. He pursed his lips irritably and finally he grabbed the plate. John gave him a look and Sherlock began to eat, a definite sulk to his shoulders.

"Regular eating and sleep for a month will do you a world of good Sherlock. You may even like it." John encouraged and ignored the glare sent his way.

"Why do you have to be a doctor all the time?" He whined.

"Because I am a doctor." He dead panned and ignored Sherlocks expectant looks. He'd pay for this later somehow but it was worth it now.

"The answer."

John looked up and Sherlock irritably motioned for John to speak.

"Yes?" He asked pleasantly.

"The answer to the question!" Sherlock threw his arms up.

"Oh! Are you admitting defeat?" John kept his voice polite and surprised. The huff and sulky glare was worth it. Sherlock shrugged as he picked at his sandwich. "A verbal response is necessary Sherlock."

Glaring as though he could incinerate John with his stare, Sherlock grit the answer out through his teeth as though it pained him to need to ask. "I-give-up. What-is-the-answer?"

John, years later, will look back on this moment and regret not having a camera handy for the look on Sherlocks face. "Well if you must know, the answer is a quarter and a nickel." And then he kept eating, looking at Sherlocks face grow from surprised to incredulity and then evolve to anger.

"But that's not possible John! 'What two coins add up to thirty cents and one of them is not a nickel?' Clearly one of the coins in question can't be a nickel!"

"Right, but the other one is." John said, grinning at Sherlocks face as he realized the meaning and the disgust on Sherlocks face only grew bigger.

"You tricked me!" He yelled, clearly angry and feeling humiliated.

"It's a riddle." Thoroughly embarrassed the taller man just huffed and turned over to face the couch in a sulk of epic proportions. "Well, I'm tired and I'm off to bed early Sherlock. Remember you promised for the next thirty days."

No response but John hadn't expected one. He started climbing the stairs with a smile. Next time he should ask Sherlock about the one with the wives.

It'd be hilarious.

xxxx

sometimes in the cannon we see sherlock go for the most complicated solution and then be all wtf when a simple one is presented.


End file.
